


my love keeps writing again and again

by weisenbachfelded



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Character Study, F/F, Found Family, M/M, Nonbinary Albert DaSilva, Trans Racetrack Higgins, anyway this is for katherine day in, but idk if i mention romeo by name, i can’t even remember what i wrote now, newsies girls week, specs/romeo - Freeform, who knows - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:22:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24898363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weisenbachfelded/pseuds/weisenbachfelded
Summary: When she is eight, Katherine Pulitzer has her first crush on a boy.Or, at least, she thinks that she does, because he has nice brown hair, and big blue eyes, and he plays soccer very well, according to the other girls in her class. His name is Darcy, and he sits across from her in class. Most of the other girls spend hours on end whispering and giggling and pointing at him, so she does the same. She stares, and stares, at those big blue eyes, and she thinks to herself,this is what a crush is.or, snapshots of kath’s life as she finds herself, and a family along the way
Relationships: Albert DaSilva/Racetrack Higgins, David Jacobs/Jack Kelly, Sarah Jacobs/Katherine Plumber Pulitzer, Spot Conlon/Elmer (Newsies)
Comments: 21
Kudos: 50





	my love keeps writing again and again

**Author's Note:**

> a better summary:  
> newsbians! javey! kath’s sexuality crisis! everyone being a big family! finding real family in your friends! domesticity! kath and davey best friends! wlw mlm solidarity!!!  
> written for day 6 of newsies girls week 2020
> 
> tw for use of the d slur once or twice (it’s fairly indirect and im a lesbian so i tried to use it as sensitively as possible. stay safe x)

When she is eight, Katherine Pulitzer has her first crush on a boy.

Or, at least, she thinks that she does, because he has nice brown hair, and big blue eyes, and he plays soccer very well, according to the other girls in her class. His name is Darcy, and he sits across from her in class. Most of the other girls spend hours on end whispering and giggling and pointing at him, so she does the same. She stares, and stares, at those big blue eyes, and she thinks to herself, _this is what a crush is._

Darcy takes her hand in the playground one lunchtime. His palm is clammy, and a little bit sticky. She tells him this, and he just looks confused, and drinks his apple juice. They sit on the bench, and Katherine swings her legs over the edge. She’s not sure she’s doing this right. Should she be holding both of his hands? Maybe it would work better if they were standing up. 

She never gets the chance to find out, because one of Darcy’s friends starts up a game of soccer, which he joins without hesitation. The moment he leaves, she is surrounded by a crowd of girls that she’s never spoken to, all asking questions, clamouring for her attention, and whispering and giggling about Darcy. 

She had always thought it would be nicer, to have the girls in her class talking to her, involving her in their gossip, but she still feels like an outsider, and like she doesn’t understand what they’re saying. None of these girls has ever asked her to their birthday party, or invited her to their house for a play-date.

Not that she would want them to, anyway. Her father is always trying to get her to make friends with them, but he doesn’t understand that they’re mean. Never to her face, she will give them that, but she always turns corners to see them whispering, and they always fall silent when they catch sight of her. 

She often wishes that she knew what to say or do when she hears them talking about her, but her throat always dries up, and she feels herself turning red as a beetroot. She usually ends up stammering out an apology and running in the opposite direction. 

*

When she is nine, Katherine Pulitzer’s father enrols her in music lessons. The small liberty that he gives her is that she may choose what to play. 

She wishes she could spend hours in the music store, gazing at all the different instruments, finding out what sounds they all make. She thinks perhaps she will choose the clarinet, because she likes all of the shiny buttons - until her father tells her, offhand, that the drums are a terribly unladylike instrument, so, naturally, that is what she picks. 

*

When she is ten, Katherine Pulitzer meets David Jacobs at band camp over the summer. He plays the flute and he wears glasses and Velcro shoes. She points this out to him, at which he blushes, and tells her that he can’t tie laces. 

‘Don’t you know how?’ She asks, bluntly. 

‘I do. It’s just tricky.’ He says, and she can tell he’s embarrassed. She doesn’t know what to say, so she just gives him a hug. 

‘What was that for?’ He asks her. 

She shrugs, and replies with another question. ‘Do you want to be my friend?’ 

His face lights up in response, and he nods enthusiastically. She gets the impression that maybe he doesn’t have many other friends. She calls him Davey, and he calls her Kath, and it makes her smile from ear to ear. She’s never had a nickname before. 

The next band rehearsal, they get sent out for giggling while the director is talking. It’s not Katherine’s fault that Davey can do a near-flawless impression of the director flourishing his baton. They stand outside the classroom and laugh until they cry, clinging onto each other for support. 

After that, band becomes a lot more fun. 

*

When she is eleven, Katherine Pulitzer sits in a school bathroom and cries. 

She doesn’t understand why the other girls don’t like her, doesn’t understand what she is doing wrong. She does her hair like the rest of them, she wears tiny little hoop earrings because they say it looks cool, and still, she can’t seem to fit in. 

She’s the last one to be picked when they’re playing sports, she always ends up sitting next to the teacher on the bus on school trips. Whenever someone is told to sit next to her in class, at best, she gets eye-rolls, and at worst, she gets actual complaints and refusals to be sat next to. 

With no friends to talk to, Katherine turns to writing, instead. (She has Davey, of course, but she only sees him for a few hours a week. Her father doesn’t like him, and says he’s a bad influence, which she doesn’t understand.) 

She buys cheap notebooks in bulk, with covers in all different colours of the rainbow, and every day, after school, she sits and she writes. Sometimes, she describes her day. Other days, she makes lists of the names they call her. Most days, though, she writes stories - creates characters and crafts entire worlds with her pen. Mermaids and fairies and pirates and dragons. 

Davey gives her a book about Greek myths for Christmas-Chanukah that year (they celebrate it as a mixture of the two, because Katherine hates Christmas with her family, but when Davey describes his family Chanukah celebrations, she believes that maybe, just maybe, she could have that kind of family one day). 

She reads the book non-stop for a week, over and over again until she has memorised every page. 

The Greek gods begin to make appearances in her stories, and she discovers new creatures, new monsters and new heroes to write story after story about. She shyly shows her favourites to Davey, who reads them with wide eyes and a smile, and begs her to write more, to write sequels to his favourites. 

She shows one to her father once, but he has little interest in it. After that, she writes a story about a mermaid being held captive by a sea-dragon, deep beneath the ocean, away from the rest of the world. She doesn’t show that one to Davey. 

*

When she is twelve, Katherine Pulitzer has her second crush on a boy. He is called William, and he’s dating a girl in their year named Hannah, who has strawberry-blonde hair and dimples, and a voice so quiet you can hardly hear her when she speaks. She always says hello to Katherine when she passes in the corridors, usually hand-in-hand with her boyfriend. Seeing them together makes Katherine’s stomach squirm. She thinks it must be because she wishes that she could be the one to hold his hand, not her. 

She tells Davey about him during a break at band practice, leaning over the big kettle drum to talk to him. She asks him who he likes, and she watches as his eyes flit nervously around the room, before he blurts out that he likes Rachel, who plays violin. Rachel is very pretty, with long lashes and dark, curly hair that she wears in two buns on her head, and she wears a black choker around her neck and eye makeup. Katherine has often noticed her, often admired the clothes she wears, and the concentrated little frown on her face when she plays the violin. 

Katherine thinks it’s a little strange that Davey likes her, as she’s never seen him so much as talk to her, or even look in her direction enough to have a crush on her. But Davey is her best friend, so she smiles at him, and tells him that she thinks Rachel is really nice, and maybe he should ask her to go to the movies sometime. Davey doesn’t reply to that. 

*

When she is thirteen, Katherine Pulitzer decides that she has had enough. 

Whispers about her have turned into snarky comments, accusations hurled across classrooms and down hallways, accompanied by resigned sighs and inaction from the teachers that hear them. 

Over the years, _weird_ has become _loser_ , turned into _freak_ , and evolved into _dyke_. Girls look her up and down with little less than disgust on their faces. In the changing rooms, they turn away from her, push her away, push her out. 

She still doesn’t know how to respond to them. She stills flushes beetroot-red when she hears them whispering about her, still flinches every time someone calls her _that word_ , because she’s not, she _can’t be_ , and besides, she’s had crushes on boys before. 

Davey is always there, waiting for her when school lets out, his flute case over his shoulder. He always has the same tired look in his eyes that Katherine sees when she looks in the mirror. She knows he gets it too. 

As they walk together to band practice, he recounts tales of what the kids at his school say about him, the way they tease him for his Velcro shoes, and that they call him names like the ones they call Katherine, how he gets shoved into lockers for it. He holds her hand as they walk, and it’s comforting. She doesn’t think that she has a crush on him, though. 

For his birthday, Katherine buys him a pair of lace-up trainers with zips down the sides, and little flaps to hide the zips. He hugs her tighter than he ever has before. He whispers that he loves her, and she tells him that she does, too. 

*

When she is fourteen, Katherine Pulitzer asks her father to let her go to a public high school. 

He is not pleased, and the screaming match that ensues leaves Katherine feeling hollow and guilty, even though she knows that she wasn’t at fault. 

He agrees, in the end, after she locks herself in her room for a week straight. 

On the first day, giddy with excitement, she wears a blue flowery dress, and she puts on mascara in the mirror before she leaves. 

For the first time, she is certain that she will have friends at school. Davey meets her outside the gates. He is wearing his zip-up trainers, and he is standing with a girl she doesn’t recognise, but who has Davey’s dark hair and freckles. 

She knows who the girl is, but she lets Davey introduce her as his twin sister, Sarah. Katherine isn’t sure why she’s never met her before. Davey talks about her all the time. Katherine wonders why he had never mentioned that she was very pretty - although, she supposes, that might be an odd thing for Davey to say. 

Sarah is like nobody that Katherine has ever met before. She is so unlike Davey, headstrong and fierce, but with the same kind eyes, and the same soft voice when she speaks to Katherine. She wears ripped jeans and baggy t-shirts, and lots of rings on her fingers. She has a piercing in her nose, which Davey tells her that she did herself, with a safety pin and an ice cube. 

(Davey also tells her that she cried a lot when she did it, and that it bled, but that Katherine must not, under any circumstances, tell Sarah that he told her that.)

People call Sarah a dyke in the corridors, sometimes. She flips them off, without even looking at them. Katherine marvels at her, at the bravery that she wishes she had. 

Sarah is best friends with a boy named Jack Kelly, who has dark skin, dimples, and a contagious smile. They go everywhere together, and Jack can make her laugh like nobody else. Seeing them together makes Katherine’s chest ache - until she becomes friends with Jack, too, and discovers that he is quite possibly the nicest boy she has ever met (except, of course, for Davey). 

The four of them become nearly inseparable. They collect friends from everywhere: Albert and Sniper from Jack’s art class, Smalls and Elmer from Davey’s advanced math classes, Romeo and Finch from Sarah’s politics society - until suddenly there’s a whole group of them at their lunch table, a collage of misfits who, somehow, fit together. 

Katherine’s additions to the group come from when she joins the school paper. The editor is an older boy with curly hair and glasses, whom they call Specs, and who speaks three languages better than Katherine can speak one. He tells her that she’s a really good writer. It makes her blush to the tips of her ears. Specs publishes some of her short stories in the paper, and she cuts them out to paste on her walls, in pride of place. 

Her father tells her that they look messy on the wall, and that if she doesn’t take them down, then he will. He doesn’t read any of them. 

Specs has a boyfriend - at least, Katherine assumes he does, because she rarely sees him without his arm slung over another boy’s shoulders - a tall, lanky boy with kind eyes and a permanent crease between his eyebrows. 

Katherine asks Spot, the other freshman who works at the paper, if the boy is Specs’ boyfriend. Spot just shrugs. 

‘Why should I care?’ He says, and goes back to editing the photos of the hockey team that he has taken. 

She doesn’t quite know what to make of that. She doesn’t know what to make of Spot Conlon at all, but, nevertheless, he comes to sit with them at their lunch table. Sometimes, Katherine thinks she sees his eyes focused on Elmer in the same way that Specs looks at his maybe-boyfriend. 

Katherine makes friends with Jack’s siblings, too - neither of whom look anything like Jack, but both of whom Jack is fiercely protective of. Crutchie is two years younger, a girl with curly blonde hair and a wheelchair, who might not be Jack’s sister by blood, but who has the same contagious smile and wicked sense of humour. Jack’s other sibling is the same age as all of them, with big, innocent-looking blue eyes that can get them out of trouble in a flash (and which they use to their advantage more than is morally necessary.) 

Katherine suddenly has friends - people she eats lunch with, people who make her laugh, and who don’t whisper about her behind her back. More than that, they stick up for her when other people call her names, when they call her _that word_. Each of them has a story to tell about the names they’ve been called - stories that they recount at sleepovers, in the dark, their voices quiet, each of them with something behind their words, something that none of them want to admit, but that they all suspect of themselves, and of each other. It feels like, perhaps, she has a new kind of family - the kind that she had always wished she had when Davey talked about his family Chanukah celebrations. 

*

When she is fifteen, Katherine Pulitzer decides she wants a new name. 

They are sleeping over at Jack’s house, just the original four of them - as well as Jack’s siblings. It is dark, past midnight - a time for confessions and for secrets - and she is explaining what it is that her father has done this time. She’s sick of sharing everything - and, while she’s stuck sharing a house and a family, she might as well stop sharing his name. 

‘What will you change it to?’ Sarah asks. 

Katherine can feel a lump rising in her throat - a common occurrence, she finds, whenever she looks at Sarah. Normally, she solves this problem by looking determinedly away from Sarah - but she can’t understand why, now, in the darkness, even the sound of Sarah’s voice is tying her stomach in knots. 

‘Plumber, I think.’ Katherine says. ‘It was my mother’s last name.’

‘Katherine Plumber.’ Davey says. ‘I like it.’

‘I think it’s great.’ Jack says, and she can hear his smile in his voice, even in the darkness. 

‘I like it, too.’ She says, smiling. 

Everything is silent for a moment, until Jack’s sibling says, very quietly, that he wants to change his name too. He asks them to call him Racetrack, for now, at least, and tells them that, actually, he’s Jack’s brother. They are all speechless for a moment, and then Katherine reaches out a hand, groping in the darkness, until she finds his hand. 

‘I like that. Racetrack Higgins.’ She says. He squeezes her hand, tight. 

‘We can call you Race, for short.’ Sarah says. 

‘My brother, Racetrack.’ Jack says, trying it out. 

‘Racetrack.’ Race says, and his voice is a little bit hoarse, like he’s trying not to cry. 

‘Is now a bad time to tell you all I’m a lesbian?’ Sarah says, and, even though she’s joking, there is fear in her voice. 

Katherine’s breath stops short, and she freezes. Deep down, she had always suspected it - the way that Sarah had never denied it when people said that she was (or, perhaps, it was more accurate to say that they accused her). Perhaps there is a part of her, very deep down, that had hoped that Sarah was. That tiny flicker of hope terrifies her. 

‘I’m really proud of you, Saz.’ Racetrack says.

‘I’m proud of you, Race.’ Sarah says, and Katherine can hear it in her voice, the smile, the happiness, the pride. 

‘I love you, Sarah.’ Davey says. Katherine hears Sarah exhale, a sigh of relief. 

There are words on the tip of her own tongue, but she doesn’t know what they are, not quite yet. 

*

By the time she is sixteen, four more of Katherine Plumber’s friends have come out. 

Jack starts wearing a little bracelet to school, hand-made with thread, in blue, purple, and pink. 

‘I like your bracelet.’ Sarah points at it, one lunchtime, through a mouthful of pizza. ‘Colours of the bi flag.’ 

‘Yeah. Yeah it is.’ Jack breathes. 

‘It’s cool.’ Sarah says, and they nod at each other, a deep understanding between them. 

Two weeks later, Spot and Elmer start to hold hands beneath the lunch table. Nobody points it out, but they all notice, they all send smiles and comforting looks towards the pair of them, and Katherine watches as the two boys breathe a collective sigh of relief. 

Not long after that, Albert asks if they could all start to use _they_ and _them_ when they talk about them. Katherine watches as their eyes light up every time someone does, watches as the tension in their shoulders releases day by day. 

Katherine watches, and she thinks. She tries not to - god, does she try - but it always ends up in the same place. 

She thinks of Darcy, and of William, and of the things she had convinced herself of. 

She thinks of Hannah, and of Rachel from band. 

She thinks of her father, and his determination for her to take interest in all things _ladylike_. 

She thinks of the names they called her, of the words that they used, and of the way that they would turn away in the changing rooms. 

She thinks of Sarah, and she feels a little sick. 

She writes them down, forms this mess of thoughts into a coherent story, into sentences with punctuation and grammar and subject-object-verb. 

The one thing that she cannot put into words is Sarah. She cannot find the words to describe the way her heart had stuttered when she first saw her, the way her breath had caught when she had defended her from people calling her _that word_. 

She cannot find the words to describe how she feels about Sarah Jacobs. 

*

When she is seventeen, Katherine Plumber tells her best friend that she is a lesbian. 

It is a quiet May evening, and she and Davey are sitting on the steps of his front porch, dragging out the minutes before she will have to go home and face her father’s anger for her breaking curfew. 

She says it very quietly, looking down at her hands. She isn’t certain of it, not at all, and it feels like a lie, the words heavy on her tongue, and tripping her up. 

The moment she says it, though, she is suddenly certain it’s true. 

What she doesn’t expect is the way Davey bursts into tears. He wraps his arms around her and cries, his face buried in her shoulder. She cries too, and she can feel relief thrumming through her, and the same relief in him as well. 

When he pulls back, wiping tears from his eyes, he’s smiling, and he looks proud, he looks comforted. 

‘I’m gay, Kath.’ He says, doing the awkward little shrug he does when he doesn’t know what to do with his hands. 

She laughs, because she doesn’t know what to say, and she doesn’t feel like _I’m in love with your sister_ is quite the right response. 

‘I’m really glad I’ve got you.’ She says, finally. ‘I know we’ve got the others, and they all understand, but -‘ she breaks off, caught off-guard by the tears stinging the back of her eyes again. 

‘Yeah.’ Davey says, weakly. ‘You understand more than they do.’ He says, and she nods, furiously. 

She takes his hand, like she used to on the way to band practice. 

After that, it’s a lot easier to tell her other friends. Her and Davey do it together, hand in hand, and they breathe a sigh of relief together. 

*

When she is eighteen, Katherine Plumber goes to her senior prom with her best friend. 

They co-ordinate colours, and Davey buys her a corsage, and they get a car with Sarah and Jack and Spot and Racetrack and Albert and Elmer, all of them squashed up next to each other. 

Jack and Sarah are going alone-but-together, because Sarah says that prom is stupid, and heteronormative, but also that she wanted to match outfits with someone. Both of them are wearing matching suits. When they see each other, Katherine is too busy staring at Sarah to notice the way that Davey and Jack are nervously stealing glances at one another. 

She slow-dances with Davey, and she puts her head on his shoulder, and watches Sarah slow-dancing with Jack. They’re making faces at each other, sticking their tongues out and tripping on each others’ feet as they try to poke each other in the ribs. Every couple in their immediate vicinity is glaring at them, as they crash their way through the crowd. 

Kath and Davey go outside for some fresh air not long after, sitting on the front steps of the school. She fans out the puffy blue tulle of her skirt around her.

‘My father took down all my newspaper cuttings yesterday.’ Katherine says. ‘Got home and they were all gone.’ 

‘Shit, Kath.’ Davey breathes. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Yeah.’ She nods. ‘I expected it, though. He’s so angry I’m going to do journalism and not, like, needlework or something stupid like that.’ 

Davey snorts with laughter. ‘Imagine you doing that. You’d stab someone with the needle before you finished your first bit of embroidery.’ 

They both laugh at that, and Katherine feels the same relieved freedom she has always felt around Davey. He takes her hand, a familiar comfort. 

‘Did you decide where you’re going?’ She asks. 

‘MIT.’ He says, a little sheepishly. 

‘So -‘ she says, her mind ticking. ‘We’re all gonna -‘

He nods, grinning. ‘We’re all gonna be near each other.’ 

Katherine screams, and hugs him. 

‘Who’s being murdered?’ A voice behind them says, and Kath turns to see Sarah and Jack, coming to sit next to them on the stairs. 

‘We’re gonna be together next year.’ Katherine says, incredulous. 

‘Davey told you?’ Sarah says, with a smile. ‘I can’t wait.’ Sarah puts an arm around her shoulders and squeezes. Hesitantly, Katherine leans into her, an arm around her waist. 

Katherine feels her heart thud against her chest, wondering absently if Sarah can see the blush rising on her cheeks. Sarah, obviously, has other things on her mind. She nudges Katherine gently, and points to where Jack and Davey are sitting, their hands intertwined. 

Katherine breathes out, a near-silent _oh_ , and suppresses a laugh. 

‘Shall we go?’ Sarah whispers in her ear, too quietly for the other two to hear. Katherine just nods, unable to speak. 

Sarah clears her throat. I’m gonna walk Kath home.’ She says. ‘Jack, get Dave home safe.’ 

‘I wasn’t - we weren’t -‘ Davey stammers, pulling his hand away from Jack’s. 

‘G’night, idiots.’ Sarah says, with a fond smile. Looping an arm around Katherine’s waist, the two walk off, giggling quietly. 

They walk in silence most of the way, but Sarah doesn’t take her arm away from Katherine’s waist. 

Katherine can feel where her fingers are resting, like they are burning imprints into her side. 

‘You look really nice tonight, Kath.’ Sarah says. She doesn’t look at Katherine, just straight ahead. 

Katherine’s mouth goes dry. She thinks she might pass out, but she manages to get the words out. 

‘You look really good, too.’ 

Sarah looks at her, then, smiling that half-smile-smirk that makes Katherine’s heart feel like it’s glowing, fit to burst straight out of her chest. 

They come to a stop right outside Katherine’s house, but she makes no move to go in, and Sarah makes no move to leave. 

‘I think -‘ Kath says, right as Sarah says ‘Can I -‘

‘Sorry.’ Katherine stammers. 

‘No it’s okay, you go -‘

‘No, no, what were you gonna -‘

‘It’s not important, you -‘

Sarah smiles at her again, and looks at her like she’s thinking, long and hard. 

‘I really like you, Kath.’ She says, finally. 

Katherine’s mind goes blank. 

There is a part of her, low in the pit of her stomach, that is filled with fear at Sarah’s words, scrambling with a terror that makes her want to run. There is a part of her, deep in the back of her mind, that is ticking like clockwork, trying to decipher any meaning to Sarah’s words that isn’t - that isn’t what Katherine thinks she means. 

‘Earth to Katherine?’ Sarah says, waving a hand in front of her face. 

‘You -‘ Katherine manages, still staring. ‘You really - _me_?’

‘Yeah.’ Sarah says, and she’s suddenly unsure. ‘If you don’t, that’s cool though. I should probably -‘

Katherine takes a step forwards, grabs Sarah’s face with both hands, and kisses her. 

She is shaking from the tips of her fingers right down to her feet, wobbling a little on her heels. She is overcome with terror that she’s doing this all wrong, that Sarah has probably kissed hundreds of girls, that she cannot possibly live up to what Sarah has already experienced. 

Okay, so maybe not _hundreds_. But enough, certainly, for Katherine to fear that her clumsy kisses are feeble and disappointing in comparison. 

‘Stop -‘ Sarah pulls back a little, punctuating her words with tiny kisses to Kath’s mouth ‘- thinking - so - much.’ 

So Katherine tries. Just for a moment, she tries to lose herself in the kiss. 

And once she does, it is near impossible to find herself again. 

She becomes suddenly aware of Sarah’s hands on her waist, firm and strong. She’s seen Sarah give someone a bloody nose when they’ve provoked her, and it makes her feel dizzy to know that those same arms are wrapped around her. She wonders, absent-mindedly, if Sarah could pick her up. It sends a thrill through her when she realises that maybe, just maybe, one day, she will find out. 

She becomes suddenly aware of Sarah’s mouth, warm and soft, her every kiss gentle, questioning, as if she is asking permission. Katherine thinks she could drown in those kisses, wants to kiss Sarah until her mouth is numb, and until her entire world becomes a vortex of _Sarah_. 

*

When Katherine Plumber is nineteen, she doesn’t know how she survived the first eighteen years of her life. 

She realises that had never quite known how unhappy she was until she left her home town, her friends around her, and was finally, _finally_ free of her father. She’s at Harvard - freaking _Harvard_ \- and her best friends in the entire world all live in the same city. 

She spends her days studying writing, spends long afternoons chasing up stories, and she doesn’t even care if they’re shitty editorials on the sports facilities. 

Somehow - and she is still incredulous that they have managed it - the four of them chip in to get the tiniest, shittiest apartment they can afford in Boston, a half-hour walk in each direction to their classes. 

There’s only two bedrooms: one for her and Sarah, and one for Davey and Jack. It’s a stretch even to call them bedrooms - there’s a sliver of space in between the edge of the bed and the wall, and the tiny wardrobe is just a concave in the wall with a curtain pulled across it. Their living room spills out into the cramped kitchen, and it acts as a living space, dining room, and study for all four of them. Most days, it’s Jack’s art studio as well, his canvases propped up against every wall, his brushes sprawled out across the floor. 

People told them it was stupid, and maybe it is. Moving in with your first girlfriend, her brother, and his first boyfriend was a bad idea spelled out in so many words. But none of them can quite bring themselves to care, not when being together like this, in this place, is a thousand times better than the small-town suffocation they’ve been living for eighteen years. 

They fight - god, do they fight - about anything and everything. There’s too many people in the kitchen, there’s no hot water left, Sarah trips over Jack’s paint and knocks it over and _for fuck’s sake, Jack, if you’d just tidy it up then it wouldn’t be all over the floor!_

But there are plants on the windowsills, and Jack buys an old sewing machine and makes them fluttery white curtains, and he paints the walls a pale blue colour that makes the whole place feel lighter. They thrift furniture, and Sarah and Jack sand it down, and re-paint it, and re-upholster it. They put photos in frames on the cupboards - the four of them at prom, Davey with his MIT acceptance letter, Jack outside his first gallery exhibition opening. 

In the evenings, Davey cooks, a mish-mash of recipes collected from the four of them - Jack’s mom’s enchiladas, Kath’s mac and cheese, Davey and Sarah’s mom’s _challah _. He sings while he cooks, to music playing from a speaker they found at a car boot sale, and Jack crowds into the tiny kitchen and holds him from behind, kisses his neck, makes him laugh. Davey and Jack slow-dance in the kitchen, Davey with one eye on the pasta so it doesn’t boil over.__

__Katherine watches her best friend fall in love, and sometimes it feels so overwhelming she wants to cry, thinking about the tiny little boy with his Velcro shoes and a flute case over his shoulder, who held her hand and shared his secrets, who made her feel like she wasn’t alone._ _

__And Katherine falls in love herself, further and further as the days go by. She writes her articles on the sofa with Sarah curled up at her feet, reading something with a pencil behind her ear, scribbling notes in the margins. She wears Sarah’s flannel shirts, and her sweaters, because she knows that later on, she will he able to revel in the way that Sarah bites back a grin, and sweeps her up in a kiss. Sarah re-pots the plants in their window boxes, and coaxes a vine into wrapping its way round their fire escape. Sarah takes her on dates to cafés, and museums, and they spend hours just walking around the city, hand in hand, and Katherine un-learns the fear that she feels when Sarah kisses her in public._ _

__They spend nights curled up in their tiny little bed, whispering to each other late at night, waking up sprawled over each other, the breeze fluttering the white curtains that Jack made with his sewing machine. Kath wakes up for eight-thirty lectures and dis-entangles herself from her girlfriend, careful not to disturb her. Those mornings are the best, when she sits, cross-legged, on the bed, and watches Sarah, mumbling and shifting in her sleep, and she marvels at the woman that she never thought she would get to love, not like this._ _

__They go home for winter break, the four of them all piled into Kath’s car, and they see their friends again, and there are tears, and hugs, and Katherine is overwhelmed with the sheer love that radiates through all of them._ _

__Her father is away on business, and they have a big Christmas-Chanukah all together at her house, exchanging presents and memories and stories, devouring each other’s news, desperate to find out what they have missed._ _

__Crutchie tells them about the school play they’re putting on, with Medda directing them. Specs shows them the shiny silver ring on his fourth finger. Spot shows them the photos that he has taken, in the back pages of _Vogue_ , photos of semi-famous models in strange outfits. Katherine makes him promise that he’ll take photos for her when she gets published properly. Racetrack eagerly lifts his shirt to show them all the scars from his top surgery, still fresh and pink and sore-looking, and Albert berates him for lifting his arms up too high, too quickly, to which Race responds with a gentle kiss to their mouth. _ _

__It makes Kath’s heart ache that she can’t stay with them forever, that they can’t all bundle into their shitty little apartment back in Boston. There is so much love that she doesn’t know what to do with it. She’s sure it couldn’t fit into that tiny Boston apartment._ _

__*_ _

__Katherine Plumber turns twenty-two in her first real apartment, in New York City, with all of her friends crowded onto a tiny sofa, and spilling across the floor._ _

__Sarah is at her side, an arm around her shoulders, tracing patterns across her arm. Her eyelids are beginning to droop, and her stomach flutters with adoration at the thought that, in a few hours, she will have to coax a sleepy Sarah off the sofa and into bed._ _

__As a present, Davey gives her a scrapbook, leather-bound, and labelled in his neat, loopy handwriting. Inside is everything she’s ever written - the stories she showed him when she was younger, every piece ever published in the school paper, copies of every byline she’s had at college so far, from two-line stories to double-page spreads. It even has all of the ones that her father had ripped down from her walls when they fought, which means that Davey has been collecting and saving these for over ten years._ _

__Every single one is labelled with a date and an explanation. On some of them, Davey has put a post-it note, with his own commentary:_ _

___this story was the first one that made me sure you were going to be a writer_ _ _

___this made me cry when i first read it_ _ _

___was the gorgon supposed to be our old band conductor?_ _ _

___this is my favourite one you’ve ever written (don’t tell the others)_ _ _

__She cries when she gets it, and cries again when she reads it later that night, leafing through a decade’s worth of memories. Davey is there, in everything she’s ever written - in characters she’s created, in turns of phrase she’s adopted from his vocabulary, in inspirations for articles. She holds the scrapbook close to her heart. She wants to consume it, to let it dissolve into her. It’s almost painful, to have the entire outpouring of her life within the pages of this book._ _

__She hugs Davey close to her, and whispers in his ear that she loves him. He says it back, without hesitation._ _

__Jack, laying on a bean bag on the floor, nudges Sarah gently. She jolts upright, blinking. Jack laughs at her._ _

__‘I’m awake, I’m awake. Fuck you.’ She mumbles, lazily flipping Jack off._ _

__‘You gonna give Kath her present?’ Jack says, eyebrows raised._ _

__‘Oh, fuck.’ Sarah says, and reaches into the pockets of her sweatpants. ‘Hold up, open another one. I gotta go get it.’ She goes into the bedroom, and they can hear her clattering around._ _

__‘Open my one.’ Spot says, pushing a thick brown envelope towards her._ _

__Katherine opens it, and out fall three photos, glossy and new. One, of them at sixteen, all crowded round their lunch table. Race has short hair, but Jack doesn’t have bi-flag bracelet on. They all look so happy, but she can remember the fear that still clung to them, even as they smiled._ _

__The next photo is of them at their first big Christmas-Chanukah, against the backdrop of Katherine’s empty house. Specs has a ring on his finger, and Jack has his arm around Davey. Katherine isn’t even looking at the camera, as Sarah dips her in a kiss._ _

__The final photo is one she had hardly even knew existed. She has some vague, distant memory of taking it, but barely. Her and Davey, hand in hand, outside the classroom they used to do band practice in. She’s in her old school uniform, and clutching her drumsticks, he in his Velcro trainers, flute case over one shoulder. They look happy, though, both giggling at some stupid joke that Davey had probably told._ _

__She hugs Spot, and he pushes her off, half-joking, telling her it’s no big deal, really. She tucks the photos into the envelope and tucks that inside her scrapbook._ _

__Sarah comes back into the room, holding a little bag._ _

__‘It’s not big.’ She says, and she looks worried._ _

__‘Saz, I’ll love it.’ Katherine reassures her, with a quick kiss. She takes the bag, and opens in to find another, smaller draw-string bag. Raising a quizzical eyebrow at Sarah, she opens the bag, and out falls a box._ _

__The rest of the room realises what it is before she does. She hears the collective gasp go up, and frowns for a second before suddenly, she realises. Sarah is looking up at her from beneath her lashes, still worried._ _

__‘You gonna open it?’ Sarah says, with a weak laugh. And she does, and sitting there, nestled in blue velvet, is a ring, plain gold, with little words etched into it that she can’t read without her glasses._ _

__She opens her mouth to say something, but no sound comes out. She realises, absently, that there are tears welling in her eyes. Sarah doesn’t get down on one knee, doesn’t make a big speech or a declaration._ _

__She is just sitting there, on the floor, in sweatpants, and looking up at Katherine on the sofa._ _

__‘Will you?’ Sarah asks, very quietly._ _

__Katherine all but throws herself at Sarah, aiming for her mouth but landing somewhere on her cheek, and pressing kisses everywhere until finally, finally, she finds her lips. Vaguely, she can hear everybody else talking. Maybe they’re cheering? But with Sarah’s mouth on hers, and the ring box still clutched in her hand, she cannot bring herself to care._ _

__*_ _

__When she is twenty-three, Katherine Plumber gets a new name that she doesn’t have to choose herself._ _

__Oddly enough, the part of her wedding day that she remembers the most isn’t any of the bits that everyone says she will remember._ _

__It is a wonderful day, of course. Everyone she loves most in the world is there, Davey at her side, walking her all the way down the aisle. Jack at Sarah’s side, not even pretending not to be checking out Davey in his suit._ _

__Her father doesn’t come, but Medda is there, in the front row, a huge, feathered hat on her head, and sitting next to her are Sarah’s parents, both of them with pride in their eyes and radiating love for the both of them._ _

__Davey, Jack, and Race all make speeches, each of them more of a mess than the last. Davey speaks his almost entirely to Katherine, his soft words transporting them back over a decade. She dabs at her eyes with a tissue, and later tells him she’ll kill him for messing up her makeup._ _

__She slow-dances with Sarah, hardly a dance, just swaying, as close to her wife as she can possibly get. She thinks of prom, and watching Sarah dance with Jack. She watches Jack as he dances now, as well, but this time, he has his forehead pressed against Davey’s and the look that they are giving each other makes Katherine’s chest hurt with love for the both of them._ _

__She slow-dances with Davey, for old times’ sake. He tells her he’s proud of her, and she tells him she loves him._ _

__‘I love you too, Kath. Forever and always.’ He says, and kisses her forehead. That just makes her tear up again._ _

__‘It had better be you, next.’ She tells him, nodding towards Jack._ _

__‘I’m gonna ask him soon.’_ _

__‘I’ll aim for you when I throw the bouquet.’ She says, almost conspiratorially. They giggle together, and it feels like they’re ten years old again._ _

__But none of this is what she remembers most about her wedding._ _

__No, the best bit, she thinks, is when she signs the paperwork - just her, Sarah, the officiant, and Jack and Davey as witnesses, in a little room off to the side. Jack and Davey are holding hands, and Jack’s head is resting on Davey’s shoulder, in the crook of his neck._ _

__Sarah would probably tell her that the law is bullshit anyway, and it doesn’t mean anything - but right there, signing her marriage into law, taking on a new name, is what she remembers most. Becoming Katherine Plumber Jacobs, _Mrs_. Katherine Plumber Jacobs. _ _

__She takes a moment to read the words on the page, her signature and Sarah’s beneath, next to each other. She feels new - no, that’s not the right description. She feels as though she is whole, as though she is finally completed, like a jigsaw puzzle missing a centre piece._ _

__She is Mrs. Katherine Plumber Jacobs. She is finally, _finally_ the version of herself that she has been searching for for twenty-three years._ _

**Author's Note:**

> happy newsies girls week! if i had time i would write something for every day but go and check out @newsies-girls-week on tumblr for more amazing stuff!!!  
> leave me a comment if u enjoyed! im vv proud of this fic and it’s quite a personal one (self-projection??). i would also welcome feedback on how i wrote race’s coming out/pre-transition bc i was a bit unsure of it.  
> much love to u all! im on tumblr @weisenbachfelded so come say hi/reblog the post for this fic!


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